Warm Snow
by RaeAdnan
Summary: The lightning pierced his chest, the cliff crumbled away and he was last seen plummeting into the ocean below, as sure as dead... but was he? Rescued by random chance, Takenaka Hanbei awakens in a dim room in severe condition, his voice and his body unusable. A stanger cares for him day in and day out... but where is he and why?


Lightning.

It is the element of power, fury, lack of control... strength.

I knew this as I felt the cold heat shatter my body, piercing my chest with its fierce precision, the look on my killer's face as impassive and uncaring as a stone statue's. The rocky cliff at my feet reverberated with the silent thunder that always accompanied a bolt of blue-hued energy such as his, crumbling it away and taking me with it. Everything in my body burned, starting at my core where the burnt flesh throbbed and slowly devouring my senses as I felt time slow, everything seeming to float around me as I plummeted toward the open sea that writhed below me with the currents.

Darkness was beginning to claim my mind as I watched his face shrink away, not a hint of emotion present in that cold mask, his hate of me ensuring I would see no such thing as pity or remorse, even in death. I could not blame him for that, after what I had done. It was inevitable.

"Hideyoshi..."

I close my eyes, waiting for death to claim me.

I am sorry...

Feel the cold sea pray on my back.

I ran out of time...

Feel my body break against the ocean's surface.

Goodbye my dear Katakura... goodbye my dear Hideyoshi...

Fade to black.

I awake in a field atop a hill. Ahead, I see my dear Hideyoshi and the boy Keiji sitting together in the serene foreground and I walk over to join them, hearing as young Maeda carries on about the lovely view. "Time flows at a leisurely pace here," I comment, seating myself at the young man's right side.

"When was the last time the three of us were together like this?" he asks us both.

"A few many years," I reply, thinking how this was surely a lovely place to make our final farewells, as I would not be joining them for cherry blossoms. Not anymore.

I close my eyes for a moment, listening to them talk until I can not hear anymore.

I open my eyes in darkness, cold water dripping down my face. There was a soft gasp, a shadow looming over me. My eyes adjusted to the dimness and I realized that somehow, I was alive. I could not move and every breath hurt, my chest burning with the effort, but I was alive.

The shadow came into focus, and I saw a woman. There was nothing particular about her-she was not overly pretty, nor was she plain, her eyes a typical dark brown, same as her hair save for a single streak of pale tinting, possibly gray, that added some character to her simple bun. She was a normal woman in a normal kimono, laying a cool rag on my forehead, her face showing obvious, if not slightly restrained, surprise.

"You're awake at last," she said softly, her voice light like a spring wind.

My confusion and pain kept me from speaking, but not from observing. I looked about, turning my head slightly from one side to the next until pain stopped me from looking any farther. Dingy, dark wood full of holes made the walls and ceiling above me, the filtered daylight the only thing keeping the room from total darkness; the scent of the sea and old fish mixed together in a clean but nauseating way that sent my insides churning, long benches along the walls littered with nets, rods, buckets and other paraphenalia of a fisherman's shed taking up what little space was left around me. Rough fabric irritated my back, but I could not even move my hand, let alone sit up to relieve my skin, a thin blanket thrown over my body which I felt was wrapped in bandages from my chest to my stomach, from shoulder to elbow and wrist, ankle to knee and even my neck, making swallowing uncomfortable.

The woman touched my cheek with warm, delicate fingers, and I noticed to some surprise that even if my clothes had been removed, the simple X that concealed my face remained in place. This piqued my interest, but I could not find the strength to voice my inquiry. The woman's hand moved down to my shoulder, her finger tips trailing over my pulse line so lightly I would not have known otherwise.

"Haru found you floating in the ocean," she told me, sitting back after a moment and laying her hands in her lap. "He said you looked dead but he pulled you out and brought you home. If mother was well, we wouldn't have brought you into the shed. I am sorry if it bothers you at all, I know it can get pretty foul in here sometimes." She smiled gently at me, no fear, no hatred in her eyes; only tender care and kindness.

When was the last time someone looked at me with such warmth? I could not remember.

"You slept for three days," she went on, answering some of the other unspoken questions that floated in my dim mind. "Your wounds were severe. Father was surprised you were even still alive and you had stopped breathing for a short while until Haru, bless him, got you into the boat. He said you woke up for a short while and coughed up enough water to wet the garden for a week," she giggled, covering her mouth with her fingers.

If I had awoken after falling, I could not remember it.

"I've been caring for you since. I'm glad you're awake now."

My throat ached with the effort of trying to speak, desiring to know where I was, but it was too dry and my body as a whole too weak to do much other than lay there in pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the burn away and heard the woman shift; I looked over at her through pale, squinted lashes.

She leaned toward me once again and I felt her hand slide under my neck and carefully lift, my teeth grinding against the painful strain of my body moving and she gave me a sad, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. You're going to be hurting for a while longer, since you had a lot of broken bones. Mostly your ribs. And you're probably dying of thirst. Bear with me, please."

There was nothing I could do against it, but after a moment the pain became bearable and I let her scoop my shoulders against her arm and lift me into a reclined sitting position, my useless body leaning heavily against her slight frame a she held me much like a mother would hold her child, my head on her neck and shoulder, my back pressed to her chest, one leg braced against my hips as she lifted a medium-sized sake dish full of water to my lips, encouraging me to drink as she tilted it ever-so-much so that the cool liquid touched my lips, my self-restraint crumbling. I parted my lips, feeling the sweet trickle of fresh water filling my mouth and making my tongue ache from joy; water had never tasted as sweet as it did this day, but she would not tip the dish far out of fear of drowning me and the water only came in a sip that made me want more.

I still could not speak but my throat burned with need more painfully than my body did with aches, so I pushed through the hurt and slowly lifted my hand up, nudging hers and feeling more water enter my mouth. Humiliating as being babied for water might have been, at this moment I was not the imfamous Toyotomi strategist anymore; I was merely a hungry, dying man in need of sustenance and care after a brush with death. A man dying of thirst does not care where his water comes from so long as it is water, and I was a dying man, thirst or no thirst.

My sense left me as I hungered for more of the sweet life-water this stranger provided, but she laughed softly as the dish drained and she pulled it away from me, which I did not approve of. "Slowly, silly," she cooed softly into my ear, her voice like a balm on my ragged aches, "or you'll make yourself sick. The sea water did a number on your throat, so take it easy before you choke." The dish returned, refilled and shining like a beacon to my starved eyes and I brought her hand back to my mouth with more care, knowing what she said was true about my state of being.

I do not know how long I lay like this, leaning on a woman I did not know, drinking in small amounts until the need abated, but I do know that I did not want this woman to leave me in the dingy darkness, if even for a moment, but she did and I found myself alone again with nothing else to do with myself except sleep.

This went on for several more days. The woman would arrive in the predawn hours, she would help me drink and then leave me to rest until the late morning, repeating this process several times a day. Returning water to my parched body was renewing my strength, but not enough to suit my tastes, as only food could fill in the void of power left inside me. I wondered solemnly if or when I would see my next meal many times these last four days, but my revelrie was interrupted the afternoon of the fourth day by an unprecedented visitor.

The tarp that served as the door to the shed I resided in was pulled aside and I tried to peer over without moving as my body still ached too much to use effeciantly. I saw a boy, no older than sixteen with shaggy hair tyed in a crude topknot, his skin a slightly golden hue as if he spent much of his time in the sun, his voice sharp and clear and direct.

"Hey, mister, you're awake!"

And none too bright, this one.

He came over and crouched beside me and all I could do was study him crudely, as my voice still was not without ache to use. Old, dirty rags passing as clothes told me he was nothing more than a poor farm hand or fisherman's assistant, his feet and hands dirty, bare and calloused; already a hard worker at such a young age.

"Darn near gave me a heart attack, y'did," he told me, his eyes a familiar, dark shade of brown I had seen somewhere before. "Floatin' out in the water like that. Did'ja fall off o' the cliffside er somethin'? Heard the noise and saw a flash all the way from me boat, s'why I went and steered 'er up close to shore. Found ya face down in the waves 'n' thought you was dead. Still, I couldn' leave ya floatin' there like seaweed."

This was the one who saved my life? I am indebted to a fishing hick from a coast I did not even know where? Surely my lord Hideyoshi would think it folly to fall prey to such circumstances. I wonder if he stills lives, if he will search for me if he does.

"You sure don' talk much, do ya?"

The doorway lit up once again to a silhouette I had become very familiar with, the familiar voice cutting through the dim shed like a beacon to my ears. "Haru! Leave the poor man alone!"

"Aw, but sis, I just wanted ta..." the boy protested, leaping to his feet with quite a bit of agility, his mussy hair flopping about his head like a mop.

"Go," she ordered, standing aside so light flooded my blanketed body, forcing my eyes closed against the sudden burn. "Before father learns you've skipped on your chores again."

"Sis, you ain't no fun," I heard the boy mope before he shuffled away, a slight _thwack_ letting me know that falial justice had been served.

The light disappeared from my eyelids so I deigned to open them to the familiar and much-relieving sight of Saki, the woman who has been caring for me these days past. I have come to enjoy her company and now her intelligence as well, as it was the only boon granted me while I remained confined to this damn shed as my body slowly healed from its shattering encounter with the sea that rocked with the tides below the floor I lay on. Saki always had with her a bucket of fresh water for me when she came, but this afternoon I saw no bucket in her hands; rather, and much to my relief, she carried a tray laden with aromas that cut through the fishy grim I had become accustomed to that brought back to my mind how utterly famished I was.

"I'm sorry about him," she said, keeling at my head as she always did and setting the tray to the side. "He's been dying to see how you're doing."

Curious, that a stranger would be so insistant to see a stranger, regardless of the reasons.

Saki smiled as she slid her hand under my neck in the familiar way she did and I sat up myself as much as I could, trying to ignore the pain that still dwelled within my body, her skin smelling of sweet pastries and tea as she always seemed to, her hair tied back neatly from her face, which I have noticed is pleasantly curved and round, her eyes perfect almond shapes framed in dark lashes; a typical, pretty Japanese woman, a dime a dozen, if not for that odd streak of gray that appear on her right temple, wide as two fingers and grown the full length of her hair, done up today in a simple twist with a decorative pin stuck through it.

I have noticed, in my silent observations, that in her morning and afternoon visits, she wears long, tasteful kimonos with a neat look done about her, yet in the evenings her glamour was gone, replaced with typical poor-woman's wear, her hair having gone scraggily over the course of her mystery days. Any day I could surmise possibilities for this trend, but as of late my mind was not at its sharpest, too much of my body and spirit aching and drained, my focus limited to the barest of thoughts as I recovered slowly.

"Mother made some potato stew today to surprise us," she cooed gently, lifting a bowl of liquid and soft vegetables as fragrant as the most extravagant feast served in the castle of Inabayama. "I hope you're recovered enough to eat something solid now. You must be starving."

I nodded the slightest bit I could, feeling her warm body against me as she wrapped her arms around my bared chest to hold the black-and-red ceramic bowl in one hand before me and a pair of chopsticks in the other, my mouth watering heavily as I thought of what food would taste like after so long without it. Saki took to telling me many insignificant details of her day whenever she came to me, sharing her stories as if I would be a life-long friend and not a nameless cripple living in a shed; moments shared this way were mostly of ordinary things that I have taken for granted until now, realizing that any mundane detail is better than not knowing any, as one can only count knotholes and trace warped patterns in wood so many times before it becomes an act of insanity. One particular fact she shared early on regarded her mother, taken ill several months ago with weakened bones, though she still fought her condition every day to try and live normally as her children did.

This was a struggle I was all too familiar with, living each day in anxious darkness, not knowing when the next painful bout of disease would strike at me.

I digress.

Her mother enjoyed preparing surprise meals when her health suited her, and this day seemed to be one, which I would be forever thankful for. Food, as foreign and rich as I have had before, became bland in comparison to the sheer richness of this soup, though it may be for the simple fact that I had not had any food for nearly a week, my gut pinching with anticipation. Skillfully, Saki plucked tender, savory chunks of potato, carrot and meat from the bowl and fed me slowly, under the same principle as with the water, taking it in slowly so my weak body would not reject anything.

We might spend and hour or longer like this, she and I, in scattered silence as she thought of things to share with me, alone in this cursed shed as she nursed me back to health day by day. In some way, I might come to regret leaving this place and her, but I was not designed for a place as simple as this. I was a man of grandeur, of prestige and power-not simplicity. Regretably, I could feel myself become attached to this woman named Saki, therefore I dare not face her in goodbye. She would be the death of myself and of my usefulness.

"You're getting stronger," she said in a gentle whisper, her breath sweet like honey. "Maybe you can hold your own bowl today? Do you want to try?"

It might be worth it to try, but my voice still would not cooperate with my wishes, just as my body still did not appreciate unnecessary movement, though with less fervor than before. I nodded, lifting my hand to take the ceramicwear from her and glad in a sense to feel something at last other than the blankets I lay on, though my hand quaked slightly as it became used to the odd sensation of gripping once again; Saki saw this and I was not surprised, as she was very observant for a civilian. She gently cupped my hand with hers and I noted that even if I am of slight stature for a grown man, she was even slighter than I-a detail I did not notice previously, as perception is often distorted when one is laying flat on their back, foreshortening all around them. At first I had assumed she was taller than I am, but now I am not entirely certain, her bonework just as delicate as mine, as if she were sickly as a child.

It is a possibility, but I was certain I would find out soon enough.

Saki placed the chopsticks into my free hand and positioned hers against the back of my wrist, acting much like a puppeteer with his marionette, guiding my fingers into the correct position and providing the strength I needed to feed until, slowly but surely, my body began to remember on its own and I found I was able to feed myself without aid. Soon, I was doing the guiding and sat up more on my own, knowing the food was at long last working its much-awaited miracle on my body, yet she kept her hands in position, laughing softly in my ear.

"There you go. See? Getting better already."

Already? Surely not.

I finished my meal this way, Saki still at my back, playing puppet with me as if it amused her that I was at last independant of her help, by at least a small amount. Nothing had ever been more delicious than this simple rice-soup-and-vegetables assortment, but I was wise enough to refrain for over-eating lest my stomach turn against me, so I left my still partially empty stomach go until the next meal, knowing it would be better for me altogether to be patient. As per the usual, once I was finished Saki cleared out everything she had brought with her, off to complete the next segment of her day, leaving me to be yet again; I stayed sitting, watching her leave in silence, taking in more of my surroundings but seeing little else that I was not already aware of there being.

Saki turned in the doorway, giving me a sorrowful yet pleased little smile and saying, "Guess you're still not up to talking yet. I hope I'll be able to learn your name soon."

She left, and so I thought, finding a flat, broken piece of iron that had come off a gardening implement near the bench closest to where I lay and a bare space on the wooden floor beside me.


End file.
